


One of these things is just like the other

by luciet



Category: Forever (TV), New Amsterdam
Genre: Crossover, First Person, Gen, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciet/pseuds/luciet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's not too thrilled by being assigned a new partner... or the finicky British ME she drags in with her. Jo can tell that these two are somehow alike, now if only they could see it. Henry just wants to live his life, but he starts to wonder if it wouldn't be good to make some new friends. Roughly based on Forever 1.04.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for short chapters, this is my first fic and i'm figuring out how to break it up etc. comments very much appreciated! 
> 
> i was originally planning on kind of wrapping up after chapter 13, but since some lovely people seem to like it, i've stretched it to 15. there may or may not be follow-ups in the same crossover, depending on whether i can get my stuff together for a good history-based fic.

Chapter 1: John (intro)

I’ve been with the NYPD longer than I should have. I’m breaking my own rules. Dangerous. But I like the job. I’d like to stay as long as I can. I’ve been lucky. Eva finally made Narcotics, and the chief moved on to a quieter city, so for a little while at least, I can slip by without worrying whether I look old enough. Eva left a while ago and we try to keep in touch, but neither of us is that type of person. She still looks up to me though, so even if I’m not visually aging, I think she’s mentally aging me. I had a partner after she left, and while we got along okay, he wasn’t the right type for the job and didn’t stick it out very long. That leaves me flying solo, which is fine by me, but not by the new chief. She’s going to stick me with someone soon, but until then, I’m doing alright. Omar is doing alright too. I’ve only had to make a couple new pieces for him, and the bar does good business most nights. 38 keeps us company.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday (John):

I got in late today. I couldn’t sleep last night. The anniversary of my first death is always a little unsettling. You know, I’m not that different from everyone else: we all worry when we’re going to die. I just have an inverse concern. The chief called me into her office when I arrived: either I’ve done something wrong or I’ve finally got a new partner. Answer: the latter. One Jo Martinez. My first impression was that she’s a lot like Eva in some ways. And yet the more I get to know her, I find she’s got her own spark.

 

“You’re Amsterdam?” Martinez looks incredulous.

  
“And you’re Martinez,” I reply with a slight smirk.

  
“It’s just- I’ve heard things,” she explains.

  
I smile again. “Good things?”

  
She grunts. “Just things. I thought you’d be older.” She pauses, squinting at me, then adds, “or younger.”

 

“Younger?” I ask. 

  
“There’s a rumor of … recklessness.”

  
Ah. I’m surprised that’s stuck around. I haven’t been what I’d call reckless in quite a while, not since Andy. Then again, my idea of reckless is a bit different from everyone else’s. “Not so much,” I say. We’re walking to our desks from the chief’s office, navigating the busy office at a careful we’ve-just-met distance from each other.

  
“Look, have you met Henry Morgan?” she asks me with an expression that says there’s more to that question than finding out if I could pick him out of a lineup. Perhaps she’s looking for an opinion. In any case, I’ve never even heard of the guy, and I tell her as much. “He’s a fairly recent addition to the ME’s office, but he’s been amazing on the cases he’s helped me with. From what I’ve heard, I think you two would get along.”

  
“From what you’ve heard? He a reckless type?” I smile slightly to make the joke clear. Sometimes people miss my sense of humor.

  
“No- I just mean, I don’t know, you have the same kind of feeling about you.” I look questioningly at her, but don’t pursue it. Sounds like I’m going to meet him soon enough anyway; she seems quite attached to the guy.


	3. Chapter 3

Intro (Henry):

It’s been a long couple of weeks recently. There haven’t been many cases to work, so I’ve mainly been at home working in my laboratory. I’m still pursuing my theory of the length of time between death and reawakening, which has meant rather a lot of work for Abe and rather a lot of pain for me. I do appreciate his participation, but I’m afraid that despite our work, I’m no closer to discovering the reason behind my condition. The experiments have yielded more or less random timing, but it’s difficult to nail it down very precisely. It’s also tricky given that a naked man appearing in the same body of water and being picked up in the same car gets noticed quickly, so we can only conduct experiments infrequently.

Tuesday:

Jo has been assigned a new partner. Interesting fellow named John Amsterdam. I haven’t heard much about him, but what I have heard is that he’s “unique”. Tells funny stories. I suppose I tell funny stories too, although I try not to. I don’t want to draw any undue attention.

Lucas is humming again during an autopsy. Easy suicide, so I’m letting him handle it. I wish he wouldn’t hum though, it disrupts the atmosphere. That, and I’m a fan of more classical pieces. At least he doesn’t sing! I’d hate to hear these awful pop songs any more than I already have to. Jo leaves the radio on in the car sometimes; I suspect solely to tease me. I glance up from my desk to see that Jo has just come in with a cop I haven’t seen before: the infamous Amsterdam, I assume. They both look less than thrilled- no, that’s not quite true. _Jo_ looks less than thrilled. Amsterdam, Amsterdam is harder to read. He looks quietly thrilled in his own way perhaps, and the less-than-thrilled part is directed towards… Jo? I rush to meet them before they can be intercepted by Lucas, knocking a few papers off my desk on the way out.

“Henry! I want you to meet my new partner, John Amsterdam.” Amsterdam is viewing the morgue with a critical eye, and breaks away from the inspection to meet my eyes. He smiles in a way that is simultaneously open and cautious and holds out his right hand. 

I shake it firmly but without force, no need for any masculine posturing here.  “Dr. Henry Morgan, but please, call me Henry.”

“John,” he replies, somewhat tersely. I smile back at him and he slides his hand back into his pocket. Martinez looks oddly satisfied at our meeting.

“I just wanted you guys to meet here, rather than in the middle of some big case,” she says before breaking off to consider her empty left wrist. “Hey- do either of you have the time? I forgot my watch needs new batteries.” She smiles apologetically and holds up her wrist for us to see. I reach for my pocket watch at the same time that John slides his hand out of his pocket, holding something. A pocket watch, fairly similar to mine. His is in good condition but well-worn, looking significantly more battered than mine, as though it’s seen a lot. I, of course, try to only carry mine in non-threatening situations, lest it be lost in the transition from death to water. 

I didn’t see his in time to not pull mine out, so we click them open in unison and announce the time together.

“9:23.” 

Jo glances between us before turning to Amsterdam, saying, “I told you so.”

Amsterdam acknowledges her comment nonverbally, shifting slightly to accept it, before transferring his watch to his left hand and extending his right toward me. 

“May I?”

I hand him my watch and keep my hand out for his, which he places in my palm. I note various dents and scratches which have been repaired, but mostly that his is significantly older than mine- unusual. I inquire about the age and he replies that it dates from the early 1700s although he can’t remember the exact year. Hmm, even more unusual. Perhaps he is particularly interested in pocket watches, although the seemingly daily use that this one receives makes me think otherwise. It's unlikely that he's a collector, with this one so battered. I'd have expected him to keep it in better condition. He follows up with asking how old mine is, but it seems to be out of politeness. I tell him that it’s late 1700s, and he nods as if he already knew the answer. We exchange back to find that Jo has wandered off to speak with Lucas.


	4. Chapter 4

We’re watching Jo and Lucas carry on an awkward conversation, when she is happily interrupted by a call on her mobile, although I am rather surprised she is able to receive any calls in the basement. She has turned away and is listening intently. After a few moments and some agreeing, she ends the call and looks up sharply toward us. 

“Amsterdam, we’ve got a big one.” He looks oddly delighted at this and makes to join her, leaving me here. Happily for me, however, Jo invites me to come along as the on-site ME. I see Amsterdam roll his eyes slightly and I’m surprised- I’d thought we were getting along rather well.

As Amsterdam leads us out of the morgue, he inquires, “Details?”

“Big-wig. Gloria Carlyle. Died at her own party at the gallery downtown.” I blanch momentarily. I haven’t been there since…

1952

It’s raining. We rush, huddled under my jacket, from the cab up the steps to the man posted outside the museum. He is holding a list, and we realize that the museum is closed. I’m prepared to leave, but Abigail has other plans. 

“We’re the Vermeers. From London.” The man looks suspiciously at us. I hesitate, then join in the lie.

“Please, it’s my fault. I forgot the umbrella.” He still looks suspicious, but he eventually decides it’s not worth an argument and we slide past into the museum beyond. “I’m certain the Vermeers were Dutch,” I say to Abigail. She doesn’t mind. We’ve just entered a lavish party, filled with important guests and free drinks. We wander through it together, into empty galleries. Abigail delights in the emptiness, the ability to connect with each piece in peace. I delight in watching her flow through gallery after gallery in her beautiful black dress, remarking on works she particularly enjoys or dislikes. 

“You see, this gallery is curious,” she notes aloud to me, “It has all these wonderful Degas and Van Goghs and then there is this single unknown Argentinian. How strange.” I agree. 

A woman comes over, dressed impeccably. She belongs here. In her wake there trails a waiter with a serving tray of champagne. I remove two, thanking him, and offer her one. 

She declines, saying, “I never drink. One doesn’t want to lose one’s head.” Quite. She inquires as to our relationship- clearly in love yet unmarried. This is due to my condition, but I cannot tell her this. I suggest that I am not the person for Abigail to marry, but this woman tells me that love should never wait if it does not have to. She subtly indicates the existence of an affair she is having with a man other than her husband, the father of her son, and that she wishes she could be with this other man instead, her true love. Before leaving, she introduces herself, “Gloria. Gloria Carlyle. It’s my party you’re crashing.” Then with a small smile and a sweep of her skirt, she’s gone, back into her party. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops the start of this should have gone with the end of the last chapter, sorry for the awkward jump in narrator. 
> 
> (also i know it doesn't make a whoole lot of sense to have them get there when they do, but i wasn't up for writing out both visits from 1.04.)

Present (Henry):

“My god, where do you two go? You both just glazed over for a minute there.” Jo is waving her hands in front of our faces rapidly. 

Amsterdam shakes his head and replies mysteriously, “Ah, just old memories.”

“Of what? The gallery? And you too?” This last question is directed squarely at me.

“Oh, ah, yes. I’d actually rather not go in, if that would be okay?” I get a stern glare in response. 

“No, Henry, that would not “be okay”. We have a crime scene to investigate. Whatever it is, buck up and let’s go.” Amsterdam is already striding up the steps, and Jo has started a quick jog after him, so I have no choice but to follow. I take my time though, and enter the gallery to find them standing over where she was found.

 

* * *

(John):

This is my first case with a solid partner in a long time, let alone two ‘partners’. This ME is a little quirky but there’s something familiar about him. We’ll see how he does in the field, away from his morgue.

This case is personal. I used to have a couple paintings in this museum, and well, there’s even one still hanging among a few by Degas. I painted it for her - Gloria. I think she’s the reason it’s still hanging. I loved her very much, but I was going through an _immature_ period, so I’m ashamed to admit I cast her aside after a brief affair once I decided that her marital status and my lack of gray hair stood in the way of my growing old with someone. In any case, I can only hope that I brought her some joy in life; I know that she did not love her husband, or indeed much of her family.

And now I stand over the spot where she breathed her last. There’s not much to go on- forensics pretty much cleaned the scene. I look up as the doctor walks carefully into the gallery, as if he’s seeing something else here. He snaps out of it when he reaches us, and digs in his bag to pull out-

“An original FBI dusting kit?” I’m surprised that he has one. It looks to be in shockingly good condition as well, and I’m impressed. I haven’t seen one of those in quite a while. 

“Yes, you are familiar with it?” He looks equally surprised.

“Of course. They were first issued in 1924 to be used in conjunction with the Identification Division which had just begun collecting fingerprints. I haven’t seen one in such good condition since…” 

“Are you two just going to nerd out over historical objects all the time? At this rate, I’ll be able to add Bachelor of Arts in History to my resumé.” Jo cuts in with a sharp remark that I can see will be a common feature of our relationship. 

“With a little luck, we’ll have you with a Masters in no time,” I reply and smile at her. 

She rolls her eyes and says, “Let’s just get on with this, shall we?”

Meanwhile, Henry has been dusting the floor with some powder from his kit. He pulls a flashlight out of his bag and shines it over the dusted area. “Aha!”

Jo turns to look. “What, ‘Aha’?”

“Her shoes, from what I saw in the crime scene photos, were produced before 1963.”

“And this gets me where exactly?”

I cut in. “It gets _us_ her footprints. Shoes manufactured before 1963 were made of a different rubber than your modern shoes, resulting in a residue that can be visualized using Henry’s kit there.” 

Henry seems slightly disgruntled that I’ve stolen his thunder, but carries on regardless. He’s following the prints by crawling and dusting back toward the entrance of the gallery and-

“The staircase!” Henry calls out to us as we follow him out into the hall. “She must have fallen down the stairs. Except- she had a phenomenal amount of injuries after taking a fall like that. Why would a person in that much pain crawl so far unless… She was pushed! She had to have been trying to get away from whoever pushed her, right? There was someone else here last night.”

“Now, hang on Henry, that’s quite a leap. Let’s just-“ Jo’s cell cuts her off and she answers it brusquely. 

“Hello.” - “You’re kidding me.” - “Alright, thanks.” - and hangs up.

She turns to look at Henry very slowly with the look of someone who has to say,  “You’re right. There was someone else.”

At this, I shudder. Up until now, this could have been anything. Now it’s murder. Gloria, who only ever wanted this world to be beautiful, was killed in the place she loved. I snap myself out of it to recommend that we break for lunch and reconvene at the precinct to interview our person of interest.


	6. Chapter 6

(John)

Jo brought her lunch to eat at her desk and despite much insistence on Henry’s part, wants to keep it that way. I was hoping for a quiet lunch myself, but he invites me out and I accept out of politeness and realizing that maybe I should try not to dwell on the case’s personal aspect too much. As usual, the chief has threatened to pull me from any case to which I have a personal tie. It’s starting to feel like I have some connection to every case in this city, so I keep my mouth shut.

 

Henry has not brought me to a restaurant, but to an antique store. Abe’s Antiques. Cute name. I like alliteration, and Abraham is a very classical, you might say antique, name. I’m confused until we step inside and he flips the sign to read Closed and calls out for the owner. The name sounds good in his accent. An older man who I assume is Abraham appears from the back of the store. He’s wearing an apron.

“Aha! Hello Po- Henry! And you’ve brought a friend. You should really let me know when you’re going to have people over.” He has reached us, and is giving Henry an affectionate squeeze on his shoulder. 

“You always make enough for an extra anyway, Abe. This is John Amsterdam, Jo’s new partner.”

Mentally I correct that to “Jo is his new partner” as I smile and turn to shake Abe’s hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Abe. And thank you very much for lunch.”

“No problem at all. It’s not quite ready yet, so feel free to take a look around. Maybe you’ll find something you’ll like.” He winks broadly at me before heading back to presumably the kitchen. I take him up on that offer, and as I’m wending through I spot one of my desks in the corner. It’s a particularly nice one that I’m very proud of. I take a moment to savor seeing it, and Henry notices me lingering.

“A Benoir. I picked it up some years ago but found it was too tall for me. A pity, as it’s a fine piece.”

I smirk inwardly as I compare our heights and catch myself before I thank him, but reply, “It is a very nice piece indeed. I particularly like the stain- you can’t get this color anymore. It looks as though a lot of work went into it. I hope Abe finds a good home for it.”

Henry smiles at me. “He always does.”

Abe calls out that lunch is ready; he’s made a wonderful peasant soup that we all consume more quickly than is healthy (although what do I care about consuming healthily?) as we make small talk. When the soup is gone, I thank Abe again for lunch and excuse Henry and myself: we really must get back to work. Henry picks up the hint, and we meet Jo back at the precinct.

 

 

The remains of a tuna sandwich occupy a corner of her desk; the rest is covered in paperwork. The most prominent piece currently is a file folder containing information on the “someone else”- the fiancé of Gloria’s granddaughter. As we draw closer, Jo stands up and hands me the folder.

“The guy is waiting for us in Interrogation 2.”

The three of us head over and Henry waits behind the glass with me while Jo enters the room to question the man waiting inside. 

“You were there when she died.” Not a question.

“Well, I don’t know… I did follow her out, but…” He seems panicky and unsure of himself.

“But what?”

“I just wanted to ask for her blessing. I’d asked Conrad already but he’d refused, so I thought I’d ask Gloria. She’d given us the engagement ring already, so I thought she’d support us even if her son didn’t. Everyone thought she was this bitter old woman, and maybe she was, but she was nice to us. I was nervous though, so I waited until she was alone. When she slipped out, I followed her. I was too late though. I lost her; I thought she’d taken a different turn that I missed. I didn’t realize she fell down the stairs.”

“So you didn’t see anyone else?”

“No. I didn’t see much of anything. I went straight back to the gala.”

Jo turns toward the partition and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. She’s annoyed with how useless this kid has turned out to be, and I am too. 

“Okay. Don’t go far, we might need to contact you again.”

“Ye-yes, ma’am.”


	7. Chapter 7

(Henry)

Interviewing the young couple didn’t get us very far. I’m pushing for toxicology to get back to us on the screen but as usual, they’re being difficult. There’s no chance of me pulling a repeat of the aconite experience as Gloria’s body was already claimed by the family, and even if it hadn’t been, I’m not much up for unnecessary death lately. Until the results come back, all we can do is follow up on motives: Gloria did have quite a lot of money, after all. Granted, there’s not a whole lot I can do when Jo and Amsterdam are interrogating suspects, so while I have been watching them, I’ve also been spending time in my lab and taking care of the simple autopsies that I usually pass on to Lucas. I can see, however, that the three of us are going to be spending an awful lot of time together in a work capacity, so I thought it might be nice to get together outside of work. With this in mind, I orchestrate a dinner at my - okay, Abe’s - place where ideally I can get to know them and they can get to know each other and no one gets to know about me. 

At the end of the week, we’re all frustrated with lack of progress: despite interviewing nearly every family member and seemingly half of the gala attendees, we’re no closer to solving this case. Jo whines a bit to me that she just wants to spend the night at home but I remind her that she committed to this dinner several days ago. “Plus, can you imagine just me and Abe and Amsterdam having dinner? We need some estrogen to break up the monotony.” She smiles at me and agrees to meet us that evening.

 

As much as I enjoy cooking, Abe does too. To be honest, he’s probably better than I am. So he’s the chef this evening, opting for a simple medium-rare steak with his special herbs and a side of roasted vegetables. Amsterdam shows up before Jo, precisely at 7pm. He’s brought a bottle of wine and - a friend? He presses the bottle into my hands, saying, “I hope you don’t mind, I invited Omar, a very good friend of mine. We actually live together as well.” 

Omar steps out from behind Amsterdam to smile at me and shake my hand. “Pleased to meet you.” He’s about Abe’s age, and looks to be at least half African-American. 

I smile back at him, “It’s nice to meet you too. Please, come in.”


	8. Chapter 8

(John)

I’ve decided to invite Omar to Henry’s little shin-dig, as the idea of sitting through dinner with the ME (who I must admit is growing on me) with no one to appreciate my personal humor, doesn’t quite appeal at the moment. If the quality of the peasant soup is anything to go on, the food itself should be something to look forward to though, and who am I to deny such a good free meal to Omar?

Since I’m such an upstanding gentleman, I bring a bottle of wine from my personal collection. Even though I haven’t had a drink in several years, it’s hard not to use the few perks of my current lifestyle, so I used to collect wine, and I saw no point in throwing it all away when I stopped drinking. It has little value to me, but it’s nice to be able to pull out a bottle for the few dinner parties I attend. And, if anything really goes south, it doesn’t hurt to have some insurance not tied to a bank.

 

We arrive at 7pm on the dot: I’m big on punctuality when there’s other people involved. Henry answers at the door, wearing his usual ensemble, sans jacket and scarf. I wonder how many waistcoats he owns. He looks briefly confused by Omar, but I apologize and make an introduction, and he welcomes us in. He excuses himself to speak to Abe briefly, and slips back into the kitchen. Omar spots my desk in the corner and grins at me. I smile back, and we move toward it together. 

“This isn’t one you made for me,” Omar whispers, almost accusatorially.

“No, this is an original-original Benoir. The third or fourth I ever made, I think.”

He looks mildly impressed. “I wonder where they got it from.”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

Henry comes back out of the kitchen to find us whispering over the desk. “Still interested in that piece, I see. You know, I could give you a really good deal on it, if you wanted to be that good home for it.”

Omar and I simultaneously struggle to keep from bursting out laughing at the idea of me buying one of my own desks, and we barely keep it together. “No, that’s quite alright, I actually already own one,” I manage to reply.

The doctor glances between us, looking baffled but hiding it well. “Really? I’d be very interested in seeing it sometime if you’d be open to that. I’m a sucker for antiques.”

 

The bell on the door rings merrily, saving me from having to say anything further on the subject, and Jo enters, looking very attractive in her non-cop clothes. Not that _I’m_ interested, but I get the feeling that Henry wouldn’t say no if she asked.

Indeed, he looks briefly stunned before regaining his composure and guiding her over to introduce her to Omar.

“Good evening Jo, this is Omar, Amst- John’s friend.”

Omar gives a slight bow, and I inwardly roll my eyes even as I feel a rush of pride at having raised him to be as polite as he is. 

“It’s good to meet you Jo. I’ve heard a lot from John.”

She laughs. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh yes.”

Henry looks pleased that things are going so well, and Jo, she looks pleased for some other reason that I can’t quite figure out.

 

The reason becomes clear when Abe emerges from the kitchen to stand by Henry as Omar is standing by me. I look between the five of us: two odd couples and one bemused Jo. I recall the words from our first meeting- _you have the same kind of feeling about you_. I wonder what the odds are that I’m standing across from a father-son relationship not unlike my own. Little do I know that Henry is wondering the same thing. 


	9. Chapter 9

(Henry)

Dinner went well. Everyone got along wonderfully, Jo insists that she had a wonderful time, and I think it was good for Abe and Omar to meet each other. They’ve made plans to get together, which I’m grateful for- Abe spends too much time with his antiques; and I include myself in that category. 

Even though the weekend is upon us, the case still hangs wide open. I’m dismissing the fiancé as a suspect - nobody really ever felt he was guilty anyway, but thanks to Lucas’s assistance in acquiring a liver sample, I’ve decided we can rule him out. With the sample, I was able to more accurately pinpoint the cause of death to an anti-epileptic drug, taken about 3 hours before Gloria died. I head upstairs to break the news to Jo and Amsterdam as quickly as possible.

They’re standing around their desks, drinking coffee and carrying on a small-talk conversation. I catch Amsterdam mention something about 609 girlfriends before Jo notices me heading toward them. She holds up a hand to stop Amsterdam mid-story and to greet me.

“Henry! What do you have for us?”

“Well, we were able to get a liver sample from Gloria, which showed she was poisoned with an overdose of some kind of anti-epileptic.”

“Poisoned?” Amsterdam says it with a certain cadence that hints at a long-lost accent. Perhaps I’ll ask him about it later. I’m curious about his past regardless. At the moment, though, he looks lost in thought, with a slightly pained expression on his face.

Jo turns to me to ask if we have any suspects who’d have access or if perhaps it was accidental.

“As far as I know, Gloria wasn’t on any similar medication. The nurse would’ve indicated that in her statement when we asked about all her prescriptions. Conrad on the other hand…” 

“Let’s bring him in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just to say Nikolaj Coster-Waldau saying "poisoned" is one of my favorite pronunciations of any english word ever, and thus it had to get worked in somehow)


	10. Chapter 10

(Jo)

I was excited to finally have a solid suspect. The fiancé maybe had means and the nurse maybe had motive, but Conrad had both. He hated his mother and had the ability to frame someone else, maybe even make it look like a suicide. I knew better than to get ahead of myself, but after these tense days of no progress, I welcomed something solid to latch onto.

I pull Amsterdam out of his trance (note to self: figure out where he and Henry go when they go blank) and grab my keys off my desk. We start briskly toward the door, when I realize Henry is following us.  I stop short and he runs into me, apologizing and embarrassed. Amsterdam turns around to see what had happened and strolls back to us in a few long strides.

“Henry, what are you doing?” I ask him, with a hint of annoyance. “You know I’m not supposed to take you into potentially dangerous situations. Conrad is already pissed off at all of us, especially you. I don’t need you getting hurt on my watch.”

Amsterdam steps closer to me than I think he’d ever stood before, almost protectively. “Yeah, thanks, but we can handle it.” He’s not _that_ much taller than Henry, but the way he carries himself makes him tower over Henry. 

Henry falters briefly, but stands his ground. “I don’t see how it could be that dangerous. After all, the man is presumably on an anti-epileptic for goodness sake. I’m very interested in getting out of the morgue more often to experience field work.” He pauses before adding, “Abe likes when I talk to more than two people a day,” and smiles crookedly. I get the feeling he’s not telling the whole truth, but sigh and agree to take him along, on the condition that he does exactly what either of us tell him to and doesn’t take any undue risks. He eagerly agrees, and we march out to the car.

For a minute I think Amsterdam is going to fight me for the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t. He seems content to drift off, staring out the window at nothing in particular. Henry is sitting square in the middle of the back seat, so every time I check the rearview mirror I see him looking strangely like a 5 year old, satisfied and thrilled to be riding along with us. 

I pull smoothly up to the Carlyle estate, and we all head toward the grand front door like some kind of dysfunctional Three Musketeers (sans D’Artagnan of course). Amsterdam gets there first, and presses the button for the doorbell, which can be heard almost instantaneously to be a customized classical song that I don’t recognize. Of course my two partners do as they smile in unison and mutter some obscure Italian name. I give a smile of my own. I can tell they would get along perfectly if they’d get over themselves. Henry could stand to not be the only know-it-all, and Amsterdam could stand to be a little less cocky.

Conrad opens the door, looking reluctant to be doing so. I give him my best deal-with-it cop smile and ask if we could come in for a moment. He glares at the three of us but relents, wordlessly standing aside and gesturing in. We file in past him and stand awkwardly in the foyer before Amsterdam suggests we could go somewhere to talk. Conrad sighs but leads us to a lavish sitting room, where I feel very out of place. He sits on the couch like he belongs there. Amsterdam follows suit in an armchair across from the sofa. I perch, leaning forward and trying to disturb anything as little as possible, on a second chair next to Amsterdam. Henry seems content to hover between us, standing behind a small side table. Before I can open the conversation, Henry very politely asks if he could use the restroom. Conrad sighs again and gives some instructions to the nearest one on this floor. Henry gives a tiny bow and thanks him before sliding out of the room. Out of habit, I listen to the footsteps and hear something suspiciously like someone trying to sneak up a staircase. At least he’s doing a decent job of it, as Conrad doesn’t seem to notice it. 

While I’ve been listening to Henry sneak off, Amsterdam has started questioning. By the time I join in, we’ve reached the part where we do our best to blame the guy without actually blaming him. 

“So you do take these anti-epileptics, is that correct?” 

“Well, yes, they were prescribed to me by my doctor last year. Look, detective, how is this relevant?”

“It would appear that your mother, while she did fall down the stairs, actually died from an overdose of this medication.”

Conrad looks nervous now. “She was- poisoned? How?”

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to find out.”

Just then, Henry bursts back into the room, wearing gloves and brandishing a plastic evidence bag containing a mostly empty pill bottle. I glare at him and make a mental note to put him on field-time-out. “I found this in your bathroom, Conrad!” He turns to me and Amsterdam. “It was filled three days before she died, and it should last a month, but almost all the pills are gone! We can dust for prints, but I suspect we’ll only find Conrad’s.” We’re now glaring at Henry in unison, and we don’t quite notice that Conrad has been edging out until he makes a break for it, sprinting as best he can past Henry, who of course stands there uselessly. Amsterdam and I chase after him, and I try to tell Henry to go wait out by the car, but he’s following us anyway. I curse under my breath at the whole situation, and upgrade Henry’s time out to include a very stern talking-to. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

(Jo)

We’re out on the spacious grounds now, and Amsterdam has nearly caught up with Conrad, who is panicking. His eyes dart around and he suddenly stops and pulls out a gun neither of us knew he was carrying. Henry’s quicker to respond than I am, and he pushes me down to the side and heads toward Amsterdam probably to do the same despite being the only unarmed person here. Luckily, John is quicker than I am, and he’s already got his gun out. I’m struggling to get back up to pull mine as well, when suddenly everything happens at once. Conrad swivels to level his weapon at Henry, who raises his hands in defeat but does nothing for self-preservation. Amsterdam pulls the trigger, and misses- or was it intentionally a warning shot? Conrad responds by shooting Henry once, square in the chest. Henry falls to the ground and Amsterdam is about to shoot again but Conrad is faster, somehow getting a shot into _his_ chest as well past his extended arms and gun. I’m already up, and as much as I want to run to help them I know I’m next if I don’t handle this, so I fire a flurry of shots, taking no chances, into Conrad's chest. He falls like Henry and John and I’m terrified and crying, and no, no, I can’t lose Henry and my new partner, not both of them, not in the same day, not so close to - no, I can’t think about Sean right now, that’s not helping. I take the deepest breath I can manage and it’s raggedy and teary but it helps and I pull out my phone and I’m dialing 911 and come on, come on,

 

“No, Jo!” Henry’s gasping but he can still speak and he wants me to not call the ambulance? I don’t understand, I have to do something, I have to save him, and what about John anyway?

Except John is saying the same thing, he’s faring slightly better than Henry and he’s crawled the couple feet toward where I’m cradling Henry and he’s saying no, Jo, it’s going to be okay. It’s not going to seem like it, but I promise it’ll be okay.

And Henry looks confused by that but he’s half-gone now anyway and I don’t understand, I don’t, but they seem so certain and I hear my old partner’s voice in my head - _if you can’t trust your partner, well, you can’t trust anyone_ \- and I believe it and I apologize quickly to the responder on my phone and hang up to focus on saving these two idiots myself. Except Henry’s past saving, he can barely breathe let alone speak but he manages to press his pocket watch into my hand and say, “Hold onto this for me okay? I want it back safe and sound. Call Abe, he’ll know what to do.” I swear I see Amsterdam smile at this, and he mumbles, “I knew it,” somewhat triumphantly. 

Henry slips into unconsciousness and I consider some CPR but there’s too much blood, and it’s too late, and he’s gone, and it’s my fault, I let him convince me to bring him and how could I be so stupid and how could he be so stupid- 

And he’s gone. I don’t mean metaphorical dead-gone, I mean gone-gone. I blink in confusion, and Amsterdam looks more impressed than confused. His body and all the blood he’d lost, the blood that was all over the ground, all over me, it’s all just gone. Like it was never there.

 


	12. Chapter 12

(Jo)

I don’t understand, but I don’t have time to not understand, I have a partner left to save. He’s better off than Henry was, I think, there’s less blood and he’s been trying to hold it in as much as possible. 

“John? John? I really think I should call for help, or…” I trail off as I see he’s not responding. “Damn it all, I am not going to lose both of you today!” I reach again for my phone anyway but he reaches out to take it from me, smiling slightly. 

“What? What are you going to disappear too? Should I, what, do I call Omar for you? Will he ‘know what to do’?” I’m angry now, that they’re so calm about dying and that they let me watch it happen. I’ve started yelling, but I don’t care because I am angry, I’m angry that this happened and there was nothing I could do and it’s their faults and it’s me they’re leaving behind and it’s me who’s going to have to go into work alone and it’s me who’s going to have to file a report and it’s me who’s going to have to explain why I didn’t call for help and how this all fell apart. 

“NO!” I scream at him, shaking him to get him to respond, anything. I’m sobbing now, as the realization that he’s actually gone sinks in as I can’t feel a heartbeat and he’s not breathing and I just lean close and hold his bloody shirt in my hands and whisper no no no and it feels like an eternity until - 

 

He gasps under me and sits up, knocking our heads together. It’d be funny if I hadn’t just watched him die and come back from the dead. He blinks a bit before standing and offering me a hand up. I’m so bewildered I have no choice but to take it. He’s acting like nothing happened.

“I’ll call this in,” he gestures at Conrad, “and you should call Abe like Henry wanted.”

Henry! I dial the number for the antique store as fast as my shaking hands allow, and Abe picks up on the second ring. “Abe! Henry- he, well, he died? I think? I don’t understand, he got shot and he gave me his watch and he told me to call you.”

Abe replies oddly calmly. “Jo, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me. Henry’s not dead. When was this?”

“Oh, um, well, I guess about five or ten minutes ago. There was, um, a whole situation so I couldn’t call you until just now.” I figure it’s better to gloss over Amsterdam’s zombie impersonation.

“Okay, should be any minute now then. I’ll go get him and we can meet you at the shop? I told him he should tell you before something like this happened.” The last part has an accusatory tone that doesn’t seem to be directed at me.

“Um, yeah, okay, sure. We’ll meet you there.”

Abe was about to hang up but he pauses in agreeing to ask, “‘We’?”

“Oh, yeah, you remember John Amsterdam? I know it seems like a delicate situation but I think under the circumstances it’s appropriate we both attend this little event.”

I can almost hear him narrowing his eyes, but Abraham agrees. Not that he has much choice in the matter.


	13. Chapter 13

(John)

I drive us to the antique store in silence. Jo’s still shaking and every once in a while I see her out of the corner of my eye open her mouth to start saying something but she never comes up with a whole question. I’m just impressed that we were able to get away from the scene so smoothly: Jo may be flummoxed now, but in the height of it, she was amazing. I ducked away to put on the clean dress shirt I keep in the back of the car while she lied to the officers and even the lieutenant as they arrived.

I pull into a space that’s not technically a space directly in front of the store, taking advantage of the government plates, and swiftly get out to open Jo’s door for her. Never let it be said that chivalry is dead. Normally Jo would be upset with the gesture, but at the moment she nods to let me know she appreciates it. She walks straight in to the store without knocking and storms through to find Henry and Abe sitting at their kitchen table. She seems to have moved through shaken and into angry. I’m glad my dying trick looks more like death than Henry’s, otherwise I would be the subject of her anger. Although, I don’t know for sure yet that I’m exempt. 

Poor Henry looks up as she enters, and obliviously remarks, “Ah, hello Jo.” I slide through the doorway behind her and he actually looks surprised to see me. “And John as well. Marvelous.” 

His hair is wet although he is otherwise impeccably dressed as usual. A small damp towel rests on the table by his left arm, and a fresh cup of tea rests near his right. Jo is frowning at the scene before her and working up to yelling at him. It doesn’t take long.

“Henry whatever-your-middle-name-is Morgan! How dare you! How dare you get shot and die and vanish! ‘Call Abe’? That is not reassuring!” She takes a step forward, getting just close enough to slam his pocket watch onto the table. The motion doesn’t have enough force to harm the watch, but the cup of tea jumps crookedly in its saucer.

Henry has managed to realize that she’s upset and he’s trying to gently interrupt, holding up a hand and opening his mouth to speak, but she’s on a roll. It takes Abe, standing up and pressing a second fresh cup of tea into her hands and ushering her towards an empty chair at the table, to allow Henry a word in edgewise. 

“Aha yes, see, I was going to tell you,” Henry begins, although he’s silently interrupted by a disapproving look from Abe. He sighs and begins again. “I was waiting for the best moment, when we had time and had really gotten to know each other.” Abe’s expression hasn’t changed.

“Don’t listen to him, Jo, he means the best and I know he loves you but he’s not very trusting with this particular truth no matter how much his son insists.”

I’m enjoying this too much to realize that Jo has slowly turned on me, having gotten her original anger out on Henry. She’s narrowed her eyes at me, and I brace for the impact.

“And you! Just taking my phone from me and dying without saying anything at all!”

“At least I stuck around to help you clean up,” I interject smoothly.

“Hey!” Henry’s affronted by the suggestion that he was anything less than gentlemanly. “I can’t control that!”

Jo finally stops looking like she’s trying to figure out how to arrest us for not dying and sits abruptly. She looks to Henry then to me. “Alright. You and then you. Go.”

Henry looks confused, so I decide that the order of the yous is up for interpretation and begin my story.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is so short! i'll hopefully update it this week, although to be honest i'm not sure where it's going, so it's hard. originally this was pretty much gonna be wrapped up after the reveal. i AM planning a sort of offshoot from this where Henry and John run into each other throughout history... but let me know if there's something you wanted to see here!

John has grasped Jo’s request faster than I, and I must say I enjoy hearing his tale very much. I am quite jealous that he knows his origin and his way out so to speak. Abe and I settle back in our chairs to listen closely, and Jo leans forward as John recounts his life story. I can tell she has a thousand questions, but is restraining herself.

“It was 1607. We’d heard grand things about a new land, and we went to take it. Unfortunately for all involved, there were already people here for us to take it from. We had, amongst our group, agreed to only attack the men, and to leave the women and children unharmed.” 

Jo gives a snort here, and I could swear I hear a disapproving “chivalry” under her breath, but she listens intently.

“In one of our battles, one of the men in our party became wild, attacking anyone in his way. I tried to pull him back from a woman defending her child, but I was unable to stop him. In the end, I had to jump between his sword and the woman.“ He ruefully pulls his shirt aside to reveal a slightly angled scar the width of a sword’s blade over his heart. “When I awoke, it was near the end of a ceremony, with a paste on my chest and incense in the air. The shaman thanked me and said that I would live until I found my soulmate.” His voice shifts to a wry tone, “After four hundred years, I’ve almost begun assuming she lived and died without me. I’ve married several times, and had many children, and I really wasn’t joking about the 609 girlfriends. Wherever ‘the one’ is, I haven’t met her yet.”

Jo seems to have a moment where she fights with herself about how to proceed, but rationality wins out, and she merely nods and turns to me. “Your turn.”

I am surprised at her calm response, and there is a pause as I gather my thoughts. I have not told this story often.

I tell it while staring intently at my teacup, particularly interested in avoiding Amsterdam’s gaze, knowing now how much younger I am than he. “In the year 1814, I was working as a doctor on a ship carrying slaves. One of them was taken very ill, and the captain thought it best to kill the man rather than allow me to tend to him. The captain saw fit to shoot anyone in his way; in this instance, me. Once dead, they threw me overboard, and I awoke in the water as I have any time I’ve died since then. I do not know why or how I reawaken, just that’s it’s bloody inconvenient to return naked in water.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not even going to try to explain the delay. finally felt like finishing this off. it's just not inspiring me any more. it went where i needed it to go- i wrote it mainly for myself, but i'm so grateful that people have enjoyed it!

(Jo)

"Bloody inconvenient? No kidding, Henry, if you'd let me know sooner, I could've taken care of those reports against you. I can't believe you told Reese you sleepwalk!"

He shakes his head sheepishly, and I think I catch Abe kicking him under the table and giving a half-nod that clearly means "I told you so". 

I turn to John, who's looking smug at the whole situation. He clearly feels he's got a leg up on Henry, and I don't really blame him. As much as I agree with him, our work relationship isn't going to succeed as long as he sees himself as superior to Henry. I turn to him. "And you- quit with the recklessness. I don't know what kind of messed-up hero complex you've got, but 'just because you can' is the worst reason I've ever heard for putting your life in danger." He rolls his eyes, but I think I'm chipping away at his swagger.

I can see that everyone is exhausted from the day we've had, and I know they of all people have all the time in the world to explain themselves to me. I stand up slowly. "Thank you, Abe, for your hospitality today, and presumably for pushing Henry in my direction. I appreciate it. Henry, John, I expect full disclosure in the future. Try to remember I'm on your side." They smile back weakly. 

I start for the door and John swiftly gets up, thanking Abe as I had, and beating me to the door to open it for me. I roll my eyes but smile. "1607 chivalry is a hell of a thing, huh?" He grins and beats me to the passenger door of the car as well. 

As we drive away from Abe's Antiques, a thought occurs to me. "So that makes Omar... your son?"


End file.
